Playing at Games
by Ashley A
Summary: Horatio ponders his situation post "The Fire Ships."


Author's note.

I am no sailor. The terms I have used here sounded good to me, so please don't blast me if the mizzenmast or whatever is in the wrong place. I don't do technical historical fiction, I do character studies…so I hope the incorrectness of my settings doesn't keep you from reading.

Set directly following "The Fire Ships".

Rated PG

Disclaimer: All properties belong to C.S. Forester and the A and E Network.

Props to Ioan Gruffudd for the inspiration.

Enjoy!

Acting Lieutenant Horatio Hornblower stood at the starboard deck of the _Indefatiguable_, his hands braced around rough rope that lead to the mizzenmast.

He had told Captain Pellew that he would be ready for his next chance at the exam. He was lucky. Had the fire ship not interrupted them, the Captains testing him for Lieutenancy would have surely failed him. Pellew had almost said so himself.

And then there was the incident involving Bunting.

_Better the speed of the bullet, than the slow agony of the rope._

Hornblower shuddered, though he told himself it was because of the bracing wind that came thundering across the deck.

_I have never needed Arrchie's council more, and I wish to God he were here._

That was a thought best left unanswered.

He sighed, and decided the call of the senior officers could not be put off any longer.

As much as he did not like to drink, for fear of losing his head, he thought that some port or sherry would be a nice respite from the feelings that battered their way around his brain.

He gulped in large amounts of fresh air, decended the steps to belowdecks, plastered a smile on his face, and went to join his fellow shipmates.

A loud thump woke Horatio late into the night, and he jolted out of his berth with his heart speeding in his chest, and his skin prickling.

He rolled his eyes and flopped back into his hammock with relief; from now on, no falling asleep with books on his chest.

No further sleep was forthcoming, however, and he decided a walk round the ship would do him good. The chill night wind seemed to calm him when he had bouts of insomnia.

Plus, being able to get out of his stuffy quarters would be a blessing.

Up on deck, all was calm, and the only noise he could hear was the periodic ringing of the bell by the midshipman on watch.

He nodded as he passed Matthews, who was rolling rope methodically, and planted his posterior on a stack of boxes that had yet to be put away. He knew they would be gone by morning; Captain Pellew did not stand for a disorganized ship.

Resting his chin in his hand, he shut his brown eyes, and tried to relax. He had read briefly of an ancient Asian practice he thought to be called 'meditation,' and remembered that it involved certain breathing practices and visualization, but he wasn't sure exactly what that meant.

So he tried to imagine things that made him feel good, and things he had loved as a boy, in the days following the death of his mother.

Being a solitary child, Horatio had had to entertain himself on frequent occasions, and as he sat on the deck of the Indy, he smiled as he remembered a certain game he had played as a youth…pirate.

He had placed several of his toys in strategic positions around the small room he occupied upstairs, and had created a beach for himself to plunder.

Waving a stick about, and squinting one eye madly, he had screamed "avast, me hearties," and other such words he imagined pirates would say, and then would procede to rob his teddy bear of all of it's worldly possessions.

Afterward, he and his 'crew' would celebrate, and spend the loot on things that pirates might need, such as hats and cloaks and swords, stolen from his father's wardrobe.

Eventually his father would come in, speaking in a stern manner of the things he was trying to accomplish, and how little boys should be seen and not heard. He would then plop Horatio down with a book, and remove all of the stolen goods back to his room.

Even when his game was stopped, when he was supposed to be reading, Horatio would continue his fun in his head, finishing sea battles and duels to the death in all the gory details a seven year old child could imagine.

A wry grin crossed his lean features; little did his younger self know just how many 'adventures' his older self would get into.

Many of which Horatio wished he hadn't had to experience.

The bell rang again, and Horatio stood, not realizing how long he had stayed on deck.

Dawn would be showing soon, and as he had the first watch, he had better try and snatch a few more moments of rest before having to report for breakfast and any news the captain might want to relay to them.

As he was walking sleepily down the corridor to his quarters, Lt. Bracegirdle was emerging from his, a huge yawn stretching the man's ruddy face. He grinned sheepishly when he saw Horatio, then frowned.

"Mr. Hornblower, are you ill? What are you doing out of bed at this hour?" he asked quietly, not wanting to wake any of the others near them.

"I am quite well, thank you, Mr. Bracegirdle. A touch of insomnia is all," Horatio answered, scrubbing a hand over his face. He frowned at the feeling of stubble on his cheeks. It wouldn't do to be scruffy at the morning debriefing, no matter how tired he was.

"I always find that a tot of rum will take care of that for me," the lieutenant joked, and as Horatio nodded goodbye at him, grabbed the younger man's arm.

"Sir?" Horatio said.

"It wouldn't be seemly for you to carry all the burden of Bunting's death on your own, Mr. Hornblower," Bracegirdle said. "He was long past saving."

"Someone else said that very same thing," Horatio answered in a small and exhausted voice. "I can't help but believe that Captain Pellew would have found a way to reach him."

"There's no way to know for sure, Mr. Hornblower. One thing to remember, however; the captain is human, just like the rest of us, and surely does not blame you. Take that knowledge to heart, and try to forgive yourself as well."

Horatio just blinked at the other man, surprised at his candor, but also found that his spirits were a bit lifted by Bracegirdle's kind offering.

He wasn't sure if he could do what the Lieutenant asked, but he was touched at the kindness behind the action.

He opened his mouth to say something, but Bracegirdle cut him off with a wave.

"You'd best get in bed. Not much time left before morning."

Hornblower nodded, and shook his head slightly, clearing his throat, which suddenly felt very full and tight.

"Aye, aye, sir."

Horatio found once he slipped his nightshirt back on, and drew tired fingers through his curly brown hair, that he was well and truly spent.

As his head hit the pillow, he thought back on his memory of playing at pirates as a child, and how innocent he had been then.

Playing at games of death. He knew now that it was no such thing.

Mr. Bracegirldle had just been being kind to a subbordinate, and although Horatio was thankful for his words, he knew in his heart that the incident with Bunting would never be far from his thoughts.

Just as the look on Archie's face when Horatio had had to knock him out would never leave his memory either, or the blood leaking from Clayton's lips as he died.

He dropped to sleep with the sound of the ship's bells in his ears, and voices whispering to him of his failure at the exam, and his failure to save Archie, and Clayton, and Bunting.

Even with the wide open sea and sky that surrounded the _Indefatiguable, _Horatio's world felt like the tiniest cage in the tiniest room.

He was going to have to try and find the key.

Fin.


End file.
